Small Wind
by T.A.Skywalker
Summary: This is just a little scene of Prof. Snape after having gone through hell. It's a description no thoughts.-Ch 6 is just author's notes. Ch 5 we're going places and doing things. This ch Snape gets to do something fun, spy work! Please read and reveiw.
1. Evening

**Notes:** This is a little something I wrote while waiting for a train and I really don't know where it came from. At this time there is no full story to go with it but I hope you enjoy this little scene anyway.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter but merely enjoy them immensely.

Small Wind Ch. 1 Evening 

            A small wind blew over the hill. A single form sat in the tall grass on the top; black hair and robes sprawled around him in disarray. The gentle wind blew dying leafs and bits of grass onto his form, some sticking to his sweaty and bloodstained countenance. He swayed slightly, his strength seeming to fade and threatening to make him fall the remainder of the way into the grass.

The setting sun on the horizon shone its last rays on his disheveled and dark figure but his obsidian eyes were far away and did not notice the light slowly fading away. As the sun finally made its way out of view the gentle breeze turned cold making his thin form shiver. A harder, colder wind made its way from across the land, over the trees, and up the hill. Its impact with the lone figure was more than his failing strength could manage and he fell onto his side without a sound. His black eyes rolled back into his head and closed while his mud and blood stained black tendrils of hair fell about his face and on the earth.

The stars shone down on him through the gathering clouds. A small puddle formed beneath him. The dark fluid soaking into the ground creating a thick mud and further staining his face, robes, and hair. As the wind picked up once more the gathering clouds increased and began to darken. Once the stars had finally given up the fight to shine through the clouds, lighting began to mar the sky and a mist of rain started that was so light it simply seemed a part of the wind. The rain continued, swirling about the hill and managed to coat the hill and the teacher upon it.

Well, that's it. Hope you liked it! **:¬)**


	2. Morning

**Notes: **Well, I got more, what do you know. This is written more as a second scene then a second chapter but I got request to extend this. There still is no full story with this but my brain has come up with something to go on and we'll just have to wait and see about the rest. This chapter varies from the last in that it took longer to write and while the previous was written in a train station in England (where I was very cold) this one was written mostly after I had just returned from the beach in the USA (where's it's much warmer).

**Disclaimer: **Same as previous.

Small Wind Ch. 2 Morning 

            The morning fog slightly stirred in the breeze, hanging in the air as a thick reminder of the night's storm. It moved slowly over the hill covering the top and the dark motionless heap lying on the very tip.

            A dim light appeared on the horizon announcing the coming dawn. The increasing light began to chase away the fog. Though it obstinately fought, clinging to the ground, the sun rose and relentlessly pushed the grounded cloud away. A breeze, warmed by the rising sun, winds its way around, over, and past the hill into the trees taking with it the last of the fog.

            With the warmth came the sounds of life; birds, bugs, and strange magical creatures; lives undisturbed by the crumpled figure on the hill. Birds, flying overhead, took no notice, but a single owl, soaring silently, spots the heap and angles to descend. Its huge eyes fixed on the form as it prepared to land. The bird lands gently next to its query. Hooting softly, the brown feathers ruffle as the bird hops about moving closer to the dark mess. Rounding on the pale white face the owl gave a loud hoot. It gently pushed its beck against his head; there was a slight low moan but no movement. The bird hopped back, partially spreading its wings. It gave a gentle, almost comforting hoot, as a farewell and took back to the air beating its great wings a few times to gain altitude before settling into a glide directed back at the direction it had come.

            The sun continued its climb, its rays steadily persisting in their attempt to dry the land and to erase the signs left by the rain.

            Then, a man appeared on the side of the hill. There was no warning, no flash of light or sudden noise, merely one moment the grass was gently swaying freely in the breeze and the next moment found a man upon it. The man's very presence demanded respect and admiration. He remained still no more than a second before turning to look up the hill. The sun's light glistened off his long white beard but was shielded from his face by his brimmed pointed hat. Though he was old, an alertness and great energy shone on his face and from his bright eyes.

            He began his assent up the hill quickly, his long robes flowing around him not from the light breeze but from the swiftness of his movement. He did not pause when he reached the top of the hill but with one fluid movement he went down on his knees. Taking no notice of the mud streaking his deep purple robes, he cradled the smeared and battered head of the younger man gently with his wrinkled hands and laid it in his lap.

            The blood had ceased to flow but that which had escaped earlier, having mingled with mud and dead vegetation, now added its stain to the old man's robes. A quick intake of breath rasped from the pale, scarred throat. There was a slight movement under the eyelids but they remained closed.

            Such sadness showed in the old man's face that the age reflected there became much closer to the actual time spent living according to the rest of his appearances. Taking a corner of his robes he began to wipe away some of the muck from the ashen face causing the dark robes to rustle as the form beneath twitched from the pain, the old man stopped. A tear formed in each eye and slowly fell down his cheek into his beard.

            He dropped the cloth edge and pulled out a long slender piece of wood. One moment the two were atop the hill, the old man's wand raised high, and the next they were gone, the only sign remaining of their stay was the flattened spot of grass.

            The sun worked to reach its peak as the wind picked up carrying clouds back into the sky and smoothing the hilltop where the teacher and the headmaster had been.

So, what do you think? I'm actually going to ask for reviews this time. If you want more say so if not, well, don't worry I don't mind. **:¬)**


	3. Afternoon

**Notes:** Deeply sorry for the time it took me to update. I would like to thank all those who reviewed (DarkHorse7, Kaypee, Weasleylover1, Light, and excessivelyperky) because without reviews I would not have started this next chapter. Unlike my previous two, this was not written in a day but came very slowly, it's also longer I think. I hope it measures up to your standards and will be a good addition to the story.  
  
…  
  
…doesn't this sound too serious…?  
  
Hush.  
  
…but we don't want to bore them…  
  
Well, we've been serious in the previous two.  
  
…so…  
  
Never mind, enjoy, and please review.  
  
**Disclaimer:** Same as first chapter.  
  
Small Wind**  
**  
Ch. 3 Afternoon  
  
         Rays of light cascading across the floor from the window brought a warmth that the room lacked. Faint speaks of dust floated in the still air displacing each other in an effort to reach some unknown target. The atmosphere smelled of antiseptics and held the stench of healing.  
  
          White, so much white. The room was filled with white; white walls, a white floor, white cabinets, white doors, and white beds. But not all was white; one small section was scared with black, a mark on the perpetual continuity. It had been covered by a white sheet, as if to hide the darkness, but the attempt had failed. Long dark hair glistened in the afternoon light; a single form alone in an expanse of white. There was no sound, so quiet; the only motion was that of the dust and the slight rise and fall of the marred sheet.  
Faintly, in the distance, a noise,  
  
clip, clop, clip, clop  
  
A sudden change came upon the room, as if some spell had been broken. The light dimmed, the air stirred, and the figure beneath t he white quivered. The noise drew closer,  
  
Clip, Clop, Clip, Clop  
  
The light ran from the noise and left the room to plunge into a chilled white abyss. The white changed to gray and the dust vanished in its attempt to escape, leaving the lonely dark to be joined by shadows.  
  
CLIP, CLOP, CLIP.  
  
The proximity of the noise reached its peak and then stopped. There was a brief moment of silence; tension and expectation encompassed the room, the black form stirred.  
  
The door creaked, the handle turned, and light started to flood through the expanding crack. In that instant the form froze and the encroaching whiteness lost its momentary return as a shadow covered the space between the door and its frame.  
  
A short form, clad in white, slipped through the crack and quickly pushed the door too, shutting out the light once more.  
  
She turned. Her robes twirled making a slight noise as they swept the floor and the short coco curls that escaped the bottom of her white cap bounced with the motion. He chubby red cheeks emitted a glow which, when coupled with the light of her eyes, caused an aura of warmth that was greater then that the light had brought.  
  
She attempted a silent approach.  
  
clip.clop.clip.clop.  
  
The form beneath the sheet remained unnaturally still.  
  
As the white figure moved across the room the light began to creep in behind her. Slowly they both progressed across the room. As she neared the occupied bed she slowed down and stopped at the base. The light, however, still continued its nervous procession and, upon touching the hem of her skirts, burst full force back into the room. The nurse's eyes squinted in the moment and then returned to their usual bright circles.  
  
She raised a clipboard from its position on the table and began to study it. There was silence. She reached down into her pocket as if to remove something but suddenly turned towards the door from wince she had come.  
  
It opened.  
  
The air of the room became excited and began to dance about to a joyous tune that only it could hear. The old man entered. Pale blue robes flowed soundlessly though the doorway and into the room. The room was filled with an electric charge and brightness doubled where the man stood.  
  
The nurse made a move to speak but with a single motion the old man brought his finger to his lips and glided over to the bedside. He knelt before the dark figure and gently pushed back the sheet from the face. Black eyes stared at blue eyes.  
  
A moment's pause.  
  
The black darted quickly towards the white and then back to the blue. The old man nodded, smiled with a twinkle in his eyes, placed his hand upon the other's hand, and looked at the white. She smiled. Blue eyes quickly landed on the figure in the bed and then the old man stood. Returning his attention to the nurse he motioned her to him and then proceeded to the door.  
  
Both forms vanished and once more left the dark form alone with the white. He moved. Only slightly at first but then brought himself into a full sitting position. The black hair fell down to the shoulders and tried to cover some of the white that had been forced on the figure. He swung his legs to the edge of the bed and sat still for a moment. The atmosphere was hesitant to respond, tense, nervous, ready for nothing and everything. His face all concentration, worn and tired but full of a deep emotion, hidden to the world.  
  
He stood. Uncertainly he swayed in the spot. Then, slowly, he placed one bare foot in the front and preceded it with the other. Cold stone, one step bringing the same sensation as the next. The dust swam around him and was pushed from its path by him. The silent trip seemed to last forever but was no time at all. He stopped in front of the window. He blocked some of the light in its frame and caused a great shadow to fall across the room. He placed his head against the glass and closed his eyes. In that instant he seemed to age far more than that of the old man. A deep, low, sigh, one that could only be heard in a room so absent of sound.  
  
He once more opened his eyes and was composed in the next breath. His fist clinched the teacher watched the streets of London with a fierce burning emotion in his obsidian eyes.  
  
There it is, hope you liked it. I still haven't added dialogue. What do you think, should I? It might make it easier writing plot but it isn't quite the writing style I've been using. I'll leave it up to you. Remember, review. I promise I will when I read your stories! :¬)


	4. Winter

**Notes:** Wow, it finally happened, another chapter. I'm terribly sorry this took so long, but I lost the disc I had the rest on and then this chapter came to me more like I was pulling it out than writing. I think that's why I don't like it as much as the others but I need to get something out.

I'm trying to write an original story for Fpress but I refuse to put it up before I have a few chapters written since I'm such a horrible updater (and I'm still only working on ch. 1!). Anyway, I hope you like this chapter enough to review.

**Disclaimer:** See ch. 1

_Small Wind_

Ch. 4 Winter

The pavement swirled with activity. Feet trampled on concrete and wheels rotated on asphalt. Wind, funneled by bricks and laden with crystallized water, twisted its way down and deposited its load on the bodies and machines that blocked its course down the street. Once the snow made contact with a car, it clung on desperately only to find heat blasted upon it and blades to cut through it. Contact with a body found diminished heat through layers of fabric and a face which allowed it to cling to any strand of hair that may have escaped careful hands. White drifting slowly into a churning crowded rainbow. A mass of colors, bright reds and greens dotted with shades of orange, yellow, blue, indigo, violet, brown, white and gray. The automobiles and the buildings joined the array of colors adding a continuous motion and continuity.

Green turned yellow, slow, and yellow to red, stop! Red became white and the crowd of feet began to flow across while cars rolled form another path. A spot of black, all black but a pale face and where the white had fallen upon him. Black fabric tightly fastened, draped down to the black boots and rippled in the frozen wind. White flakes clutched to dark strands; each one tugged by a wind that both deposited more white while pulling to remove those already attached.

Red to yellow, ready, and yellow to green, go! The traffic switched direction once more and the black form continued along the storefronts. Frosted glass tempted each cold passerby with warmth and bright colors: lights, fabrics and objects. Brightly dressed figures fell for the lures and crisscrossed their way through the mass to the bait. A bright red coat bumped the black and the pale face scowled. Inside its black orbs dashed back and forth, scanning each face and every building, the motion of the metal and the emotion of the flesh.

Wait.

Go.

Stop.

Walk.

Shoes struck pavement and cement, heels and soles scraped ice and earth around the sidewalk. The black fabric flowed through the crowd, down the street, around the corner, and down another street. Less feet, less colors, more white and gray. Dirty grays and dirty browns, molding eaten away from ancient bricks. Cold grimy windows, frosted, darkened, uninviting.

The wind picked up speed. Twisting, accumulating, forming a mass. The black turned another corner, the great wall of white turned with him. Velocity matched pace. The lane narrowed, barely room for two machines side by side. Grimy glass on one side glared gloomily at blank brick on the other. The white wall passed the black at the break, twirled around and found only white and brick. The white scattered, found only pavement and building to which it could cling, then, swirled about and continues on its path, leaving the lonely street where the professor had vanished.

Ok, that's all of that I'll put you though. I'll try to continue if you insist, I kinda set this chapter up to do that. Hope you review (ok, I'd really love that).


	5. Inside

**Notes: **...wow...that's like...wow...this chapter really wanted to be written. I had an idea for it but I didn't expect to have written it so quickly. Soooo...this is a treat for you (and me ï). I really like this chapter too and it seems to hold something of plot...WOW! Hope you like it as much as I liked writing it. Oh, and ishmaranara, I'm sorry, but I just don't feel right putting dialog in my story just yet, maybe later, maybe not, we'll see.

**Disclaimer:** See ch. 1

_Small Wind_

Ch. 5 Inside

Darkness filled the room. Indefinite forms lay scattered about only barely perceptible as forms darker than the dark. Stale air pressed upon the space, hanging heavy about the dark forms. Silence punctuated by sharp snaps,

...

...

Tick

...

...

Tick

...

...

Tick

...

...

Tick

...

...

Each second counted by an unseen piece for only the darkness the hear.

...

...

Tick

...

...

The door swept silently open and a pale light filtered around a tall dark form.

His hand flicked and a light burst forth from the tip of a long thin stick held tight in his hand.

The small light illuminated the man's pale face and dark form and allowed light to creep around the scattered forms causing long shadows to form behind each one. The man's black eyes darted around the room. Dust covered volumes lined the dust covered shelves, worn chairs of faded fabric and ancient wood were helter-skelter about the room, large dark oak desks lined the walls between the shelves, a long mahogany table sat in the middle of the room and all around old volumes lay discarded.

The black form remained still for only a moment, rapidly moving from the doorway to the nearest desk. His single free hand tore open every drawer frantically relieving them of their contents. The spark tipped dark wood held tight illuminated his stern features; nit brows on top of intense black orbs flanking a large hooked nose over a down turned mouth and all outlined by straight raven locks draping to his wide shoulders.

Once all the papers and odd objects of one desk had been moved from their original positions to pure disarray, the shadows suddenly moved to accommodate the sources motion as it navigated its way to the next location. Once more, drawers were open and, once more, items were carelessly scattered. Over and over the processes repeated itself, light moved, drawers opened, and objects flew, until all desks were upturned. Upon the spot of the last victim he stood transfixed, glancing quickly around the room. The obsidian circles roamed about each shelf and over the long table, scanned the length of the walls, up and around the rooms ceiling and finally examining the littered carpet.

His view paused on the corner farthest from the entrance.

Eyelids narrowed, his feet began a swift path to the small space while the sweeping fabric about him caused discarded papers to flutter about. His sudden halt was followed by the rustling of the settling sheets. Black folds compressed onto black folds until his height reached half his normal and both knees, cushioned by the black cloak, rested on the old carpet.

His hand flicked and the light was extinguished from the long thin stick. The dim pale light crept from the gaping door, through the furniture and around the dark figure. His arm raised and began a slow circular procession. With each rotation a soft yellow glow hung in the air where the tip of wood had just been. The motion continued, round and round, the soft glow became more and more vibrant but somehow did not find interest in moving beyond the confines created by the walls and his dark form.

He stopped.

For a brief moment the whole room became still, only the continual clock, relegated to be on its side upon the floor, seemed impervious to the spell.

...

...

Tick

...

...

Tick

...

...

The air became extremely electrified, his arms flew up bringing fabric out to shape great black wings and, falling forward, arms swooshing down, he pushed with his entire body upon the swirl of yellow.

The light escaped in all directions. Knocking against bookshelves and desk it exposed the brilliant colors once contained in the ancient volumes and fabrics and caused the wood to regain the lost intense hues. It burst from the door and traveled a short span down the deserted hall, showing on the walls vivid paintings long since faded.

And then it was gone.

In the absence of the light even the previous grey gloom that had permeated the hallway was indeterminable. Unseen dust began to settle once more on its old resting grounds. The black form was moving. Barely perceptible in the return of darkness, the swift motions could not make known the intent of the mover. Quickly standing, he revealed the wall, now containing an open compartment recently emptied of its contents.

He turned, noiselessly stuffing a small white box into his folds of black which gladly sucked in the white. Like a black phantom he glided through the room and back to the entrance, pausing only a moment to glance about the hall before darting outside.

The door slide silently shut. Once more the room was left to the darkness and the relentless snaps.

Ok, well that's that. Please review, I did get you this faster than any other chapter I've done yet...


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